I giggle, moving to stand. “I can cross it off the list, then?” I ask, crawling into bed to lie next to him.
“Cross it all the way fucking off.” He rolls his neck to turn his face toward me. “I’m going to get you back for that…” He lays a palm on his heaving chest. “Once I stop feeling like you sucked the life out of me.”
“I was thinking Cabo for the honeymoon,” I say, slipping off one of his rings and holding it up to the light.
“Hey,” he barks, stealing it back. “That’s my job.” He grabs my wrist with his other hand, holds his ring up to each of my fingers before determining it would fit best on my thumb. “Cabo it is.” I can’t wait to see you in a bikini,” he says, sliding the ring onto my thumb and patting my hand before tossing it aside. “????????.”
“What does that mean?”
“Witch.”
I smile up at the ceiling, nearly giggling aloud. A second-generation Welsh witch.My mother would be so proud.
Twenty
Milo
Every morning forthe last five days, I’ve painted with Mrs. Welch. Every evening for the last five days, I’ve been in Prue’s bed. And every minute in between, I’ve been wishing Tom hadn’t confided in me like he did. Because now every otherwise happy morning spent with my favorite teacher, or every glorious second with her daughter, feels like sand passing through an hourglass.
I’ve spent the better part of my life either wishing for things to end or deciding when they will. And I hate that this, thisonejuncture I could imagine myself settling into, is going to end whether I want it to or not.
And worse than that, I’ve made myself scarce again. I sleep here, when I can. I eat here, when invited. I’m avoiding my siblings, whenever possible. And I have the nerve to feel like a hero while doing it. Helping the Welches, all of them, makes me feelgood.And, I could give into that feeling, if I let myself. I could convince myself, with time, that this is a do-over. A clean slate with a nice family who each need me, all in ways I can actually accommodate. That there’s a purpose for me here.
Icoulddo all of that, if my own family wasn’t just up the road. If my brother would quit looking at me like he’s some wounded animal I refuse to tend to. If Nadia would start looking at me atall. I cannot keep pretending that I could make a life here, without first addressing the life I left behind.
I wake up in Prue’s bed next to a note that matches the handwriting tattooed on my hip. It readsMom needed me. Text me when you’re up xo,so, I do.
Milo: good morning gorgeous
Milo: I need to skip painting today, I’m afraid
Milo: Family shit to handle
Milo: But I’ll see you later
With that, I gather my clothes and get dressed. I notice Prue left my ring, the one I’d slipped onto her thumb last night, on the table next to my side of the bed. I decide to leave it. It’s hers now, as far as I’m concerned. I cannot give her much, but I can give her that. Something to remember me by when one of us, whoever that may be, decides to leave or end things.
Because, lately, I’m less and less sure that it’ll be me walking away.
Tom asked me to help convince his daughter that there’s a great big world out there, and I fear, which shouldn’t be a shock to anyone, that I’ve outdone myself. I can see it behind Prue’s eyes when I tell her stories. In the little creases at their corners, while her smile grows and grows and takes over her face after I name a place I’d love to show her someday. I think she’s imagining herself out of this town for what may be the first time just as I consider the opposite.
And it feels unkind of me to offer her a menu that Tom may snatch out of her hands when he finally admits the truth. Not that he sees it that way. But I’ve spent enough time with hisdaughter now to see, clear as day, that she’d be back here on the next flight or bus or train the moment she got the news. She’s loyal. She’s good. She’s decent.
Unlike me.
Twenty minutes later, I’m walking up Sef and Nik’s long drive, to find Sef sitting on the front porch, rocking Harper as she nurses. The trees around their house are just starting to turn for the season, the tips of each leaf dusted with golden yellows and browns, threatening to fall.
I smile to myself, imagining making leaf piles with the kids. Watching them jump in the piles over and over as I stand by with a rake, ready to remake them to cushion their falls. I wonder if they’d like building snowmen too, with their favorite least-favorite uncle. Or, puddle jumping in the spring. I cannot imagine what Sef and Nik will do with all of them during the long summer without school. I bet they’d like jumping off of Prue’s dock. I wonder if they already know how to swim. I could help with that.
Icould.
“Long time no see,” Sef says softly as I make my way up their front steps. “I was starting to wonder if you’d taken off for good again.”
I let that jab hit, because I deserve it. “I know,” I say, sighing as I fall into the rocking chair next to hers. I reach out and squeeze the bottom of Harper’s foot that’s sticking out past the blanket she’s wrapped in. “I’ve—”
“Been avoiding us,” she asserts. Her sweet, gentle smile is still there, as it always is. Sef has the unique ability to go beyond what Aleks can when delivering a hard truth. Sef can make you realize you’re being an asshole while simultaneously making you feel safe, seen, and loved. I’m glad Nik’s kids will have that.
“Sef, I—”
